The Legend of the Rock
by S. Faith
Summary: Local legend piques Bridget's interest, much to Mark's chagrin.
**The Legend of the Rock**

By S. Faith, © 2016

Words: 3,097  
Rating: M / R  
Summary: Local legend piques Bridget's interest… much to Mark's chagrin.  
Disclaimer: Not my [fill in blank].  
Notes: The legend on which this is based, I'm not entirely convinced wasn't invented... but.

* * *

"Oh, _no_. Not another trip out of town."

Mark turned the phone so that the sigh he uttered wouldn't get picked up by the microphone. "I'm sorry, Bridget," he said. "It's unavoidable."

"How long will you be gone?" she asked, sadness evident in her tone. "Where are you going?"

"I have to go to Plymouth to take depositions," he said. "I'll be gone at least three days, maybe four, counting the drive itself."

"Oh," she said; it amazed him how much disappointment could be conveyed by a single syllable.

"Maybe…" he began, suddenly struck with inspiration. "Maybe you could come with me."

Silence, then: "Really?" She didn't sound excited, so much as sceptical.

"Sure," he said. "It'd make the drive go quickly, having you there… and would make the off time a bit more bearable."

"Not sure I can take off the time."

"Doesn't hurt to ask," he said, smiling now. "We could leave Thursday evening, I could take my depositions, and we could come back late Monday." After a pause, he added, "I could get them taken quickly and we could spend the rest on a… minibreak."

"Ooh," she said. The 'm' word. It was not one he used frequently, but it always elicited a positive reaction. "This is sounding _much_ more promising."

"I thought you might say that," said Mark. "I'll pick you up from work on Thursday, and we can head straight out. Bring your packed bag with you."

She was quiet again. "All right," she said. "I'll just have to arrange to have a very complicated gynaecological problem."

He didn't ask, and he wasn't sure he wanted to know. He was just happy that his rather dull, depressing mission to the southwest of England had just developed a silver lining.

…

The satnav had put the drive at just under four hours, but he realised with their stop for a quick dinner and the unexpected traffic delays, it would be taking a little longer. Her excitement was a bit contagious, and made the trip seem much less frustrating or annoying.

Mark had cancelled his reservation at a chain hotel after instead booking a suite at a nearby bed and breakfast, a bit more comfort and cosiness for the two of them after his working hours. As he described it to her from what he had read about it online, she became exceedingly thrilled.

"This is going to be so, so lovely," she said moonily, leaning against his arm as he drove the car into Plymouth proper.

He smiled a little to himself. Not bad, considering the last minute arrangements.

After a quick, painless check-in, the proprietors of the place showed them to their room; she was obviously charmed by the owners and the place itself, and he had to admit, he was too. "This'll do, indeed," she said once they were left on their own.

"Indeed," said Mark, who closed the door, then went to slip his arm around her waist. "I'm glad that you like it."

"Oh, yes, I do." She turned and put her arms around him, giving him a long, tight hug. "Ooh, want to go take a stroll by the water?" she asked, drawing back. "It's such a gorgeous night."

He was going to say that he preferred to retire sooner rather than later given that he had to meet the individual he had come to depose at a relatively early hour, but the excitement in her eyes, the hopeful expression on her face… he couldn't refuse. "Sure," he said.

"Ooh," she said, bouncing on her toes. "Maybe we can find something like, oh, I don't know, an ice cream shop."

He chuckled. "Let's go have a look, then."

They went down to the water, walked up and down one of the piers there, finding a vendor who was selling all manner of frozen treats. He got two, which they ate as they stood looking out into the star-twinkling darkness and over the placid sea.

"Lovely," she said.

"Hmmm, indeed," he said, sliding his free hand along her waist to pull her close. "We should get back," he said quietly. "I have an early morning."

She turned and looked up to him, a small smile playing on the corner of her mouth. "You don't have to ask me twice," she said, pecking his lips with a kiss.

The bed was as accommodating as the room was, and after tenderly making love, they slept quite soundly and comfortably. It was a toss-up as to whether to credit the quality of the bed or the satiated post-coital state leading them to awaken refreshed and fully rested.

They took the complimentary breakfast in the room, a full English that Bridget complained would singlehandedly restore the few pounds she had managed to lose. Still, she ended up polishing off the whole thing.

"I guess you needed that," he teased.

"After last night, I guess I did," she said, sipping her coffee with a wink.

…

Friday went more smoothly than expected; the client he was deposing, an elderly gentleman, had been too old and too frail to travel the distance to London, but was still alert and aware, cooperative, and good company between questions. The examiner was a personable woman about his mother's age, also local. Mark estimated that they were about 75% done by the end of the first day, which he knew would make Bridget very happy.

When he returned to their lodgings he found Bridget had just returned, and she seemed very pleased with herself. "What did you get up to all day?" he asked.

"I went for a long walk along the pier, then found a little coffee shop and set up for a bit working on the laptop."

"Working?"

"Well… writing." She grinned slyly. "I'm really interested in screenwriting, had some ideas for the telly."

"Oh, that's wonderful," he said. "Well. I'm glad you weren't bored." In his thoughts, he added, _You become a bit dangerous when you're bored._

"Not at all. Was talking to some of the locals, too. They were lovely."

He embraced her, brushing a kiss along her cheek. "I'm so pleased," he said. "You'll be glad to hear that we're three-quarters done. Should be all wrapped up by noon tomorrow."

"Oh, _lovely_!" she said. "I'll go to the same place tomorrow, and you can meet me there."

"Excellent plan," he said. "Let's find a nice place for dinner, and you can point it out to me."

They spoke to Bonnie, the B&B co-owner, for nearby restaurants to try, and she was able to recommend a seafood place on the pier nearby. "Oh, yes, I think we passed it by last night," he said. It had looked very cosy, and it would do, indeed.

He had a bit more wine than he should have, but it felt so good to be out with her without the threat of real life intruding. As they walked home arm in arm, she pointed out the little café where she had spent her afternoon. He made a mental note, then slipped an arm around her waist and steered her towards where their room was.

…

When Mark entered the café that next afternoon just in time for lunch, the place was alive with the chatter of patrons, the clinking of dishes, the bustle of the servers. He found Bridget at a table in the front corner, near the window; he supposed it was so that she could see him approaching, but she was embroiled in deep conversation with a pair of old ladies at the next table over. All of their eyes were shining with the excitement of their conversation.

"Hello," Mark said as he approached.

"Mark!" said Bridget. "Didn't see you come in. Have a seat—I'm sure Dot will be by in a moment."

"This must be your young man," said one of the two older women. The other simply gave Bridget a look that could best be termed 'knowing'.

"Yes," Bridget said; her cheeks went pink as she said it, which made Mark ever more curious. He took a seat nearest her at the table.

"So what's going on?" he asked, lowering his voice.

"Oh, well, someone came in talking about something scandalous that happened in Dartmoor, and it's made the rounds from table to table. Jean and Elaine—I know, I know—were just telling me about it." She turned back to the pair of women. "So. Where exactly is this rock?"

"Hold on, hold on. What happened?"

After quick introductions were made, Elaine, who hadn't yet spoken to him, explained: "There's been a pair arrested at Dartmoor Park, you see. Nigel Parker's grandson and his young lady!"

"All right," Mark said; hoping to encourage her to give more details, he added, "and…?"

"Well, they were found on the rock, you know!"

Both Jean and Elaine looked expectantly at Mark, but he had no idea what this was supposed to mean. He asked, "And which rock is this?"

"Oooh, he doesn't know about the rock," said Jean, practically tittering. "Why don't you tell him, Elaine?"

"You can tell me, ma'am," said Mark; he had a feeling whatever it was she was going to say shouldn't come from a woman with the same name as his mother.

"Well," said Jean, pleased to be relaying this information, "the legend has it that any couple who consummates their love on the rock will be together for all eternity."

"On the rock?" he repeated back. "Outdoors?"

"Yes, outdoors," Bridget said. "It's a park, after all. I love the idea of this legend, though!"

 _Oh God_ , he thought. And she had been asking where this rock was.

"Well, I can certainly see why everyone's chatting about it," he said. "Public lewdness and indecency…"

She poked him in the side playfully. "It sounds so romantic."

"It sounds to me like the sort of thing that a man might tell a love-struck girl to get her to sleep with him," Mark said sceptically.

She blew air through her lips.

Jean then slid a bit of paper with a roughly drawn map on it towards Bridget. "Never been there, m'self," she said, tapping her finger on the X, "but I've heard it's right near the eastern entrance."

Bridget took the paper, held it up reverently. "Oooh." She then looked to Mark. "Can we stop there on our way back to London?"

He was saved by the appearance of the waitress Dot to ask what it was Mark wanted. He ordered a coffee and a sandwich with a side of chips.

"Well?" Bridget asked, once Dot had retreated. "What do you say?"

"I think we should discuss this later."

She pursed her lips, then reached for her coffee and took a sip.

He hoped that she would forget the subject by the time they were finished with lunch; they said goodbye to their new acquaintances, and headed out into the sunny day. However, he should have known better.

After a day out of doors, then dinner that evening, then washing up for bed, he drew her to him for a kiss.

"Wait."

He drew back, furrowing his brow.

"It's later now."

"Bridget," he said, exhaling heavily. "We are _not_ making a side trip to have a tryst on a rock that may or may not even actually exist, risking possible arrest and certain humiliation."

She sighed, looking down, mental wheels certainly turning; she then looked to him again. "Can we just go to Dartmoor, then? I've heard the park is stunning, and I'm pretty sure there isn't much more to see in this city, anyway."

"So we're just going to go find this alleged 'eternal union' rock and… look at it."

She frowned, pouting a bit. "No. We're going to go explore the wonders of nature in the southern part of our great nation."

He gazed into her eyes a few moments more, then couldn't help himself; he began to chuckle. "Fine," he said, surrendering, pulling her close and kissing her. "We can plan the drive over breakfast and leave after that."

"You are the _actual_ best," she said, slipping her arms around his neck and kissing him again.

…

Mark kept them to the schedule he'd sketched out the night before, and they were checked out of the B&B and on the road by ten in the morning. "So all we really know about this rock," he said as they wound their way east on A38, "is that it's just inside the eastern entrance to the park."

"Mm-hmm," said Bridget, who still had the drawing that Jean had given her.

"Which one?" Mark asked.

"Is there more than one?" Bridget asked.

"From what I can tell on the map, yes," he said. "Where did Jean put the X? Near the top? The side?"

"The lower position," she said. "Maybe at the four o'clock, if it were a clock face."

"Hmm. So it might be A384."

"What?"

"That's the road's designation," he said. "From someone in Plymouth, that's probably the first major entrance you'd pass on the way up to London."

"You're practically a super sleuth," she said, leaning over to peck his cheek again.

He decided he was going to just take that first exit and wing it from there, because otherwise they'd just be driving aimlessly around an enormous park. Perhaps from there they could take a short hike, find a suitable rock, and then return to the car and head back to London. _Take charge, act like you know what you're doing even if you don't_ , he thought, _and others will follow your lead_.

He saw the entrance and indicated left around the roundabout. He followed a few small road signs, and in short order, were within the boundaries of the park itself. She looked from the left side of the road to the right as if there might be a giant "SHAG ROCK" sign pointing the way. Or as if the rock itself would be right there on the main thoroughfare.

He took a few more turns going deeper into the park, then found himself heading towards a clearing. "I see some standing stones!" she said, looking out the passenger window. "I think we're close."

"All right," he said; he wondered if she wasn't doing the same thing he was, pretending like she knew where they were going. He pulled along the side of the road by a walking path. "We can take it by foot from here."

She looked utterly gleeful.

It had started out as a beautiful, sunny summer day, but by the time they'd worked their way down the path the sky had clouded over, and there was a slight chill in the air. He hoped that if something was going to turn up, he hoped it would happen soon.

"Oh my God!" she said. "Mark! I think that might be it, right over there."

He glanced to his left, and under a glade of trees there was a tallish, flat, pillar-shaped rock. The odds that they'd stumbled on the actual rock were astronomical, but it would do as far as sight-seeing went, so he smiled and slipped an arm around her shoulders. "It's as if you had a special sixth sense for it," he murmured.

"Let's have a closer look, shall we?" she said, taking him by the hand and tugging him closer to the rock. As they got nearer, she released his hand, dashed ahead, and then popped up and sat on the rock.

"Bridget," he said.

"Look. Perfect height." She grinned, waggling her brows.

"I think you should come down from there."

"Why? It doesn't say you can't climb up on it." She held out her hand. "Come here." After a hesitation, he stepped forward, standing nearer to her, but not within her reach. She noticed, and laughed. "Mark, I'm not going to yank you up here and have my way with you," she said. "Come here."

He did as she asked, and she held out her arms for an embrace. He accepted it; she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him up against her. As he held her close he realised he was standing between her parted knees.

 _It really is the perfect height_ , he thought fleetingly, before cursing at himself for thinking such thoughts.

"Are you sure," she said quietly, breath warm against his cheek, her hands tracing lines up and down his back, "that I can't persuade you?"

"Bridget," he said dangerously.

"No one's around for miles," she said. One of her hands came around the waist of his trousers, then reached around to grasp his hand from her own waist. "We could make it very quick," she went on, drawing his hand up her thigh, under her skirt; he realised very quickly that she was not wearing pants.

She might not have physically yanked him up onto the rock, but she had her way with him, all the same.

…

"Mark."

"What is it, darling?"

"It's… it's my backside."

"What about it?"

"I can't get it warm."

He tried not to chuckle. "Is that so."

She pursed her lips.

"If I recall correctly," he said, "it was your idea to sit on a rock in the shade with nothing under you but the thin fabric of your ridiculous skirt."

"I didn't see you objecting overly much."

Rather than respond, as he couldn't deny it when all was said and done, he reached over to the car's dashboard, and then flipped on the heater for the passenger seat.

"There you are, love."

He glanced over to her, realised he couldn't tell if she were pouting or smirking. To reassure her, he placed his hand on her knee.

"It's the best I can do until we get home," he said.

That elicited from her what was definitely a smirk.

…

It was not for another few days when his phone rang midday; it was Bridget, and she was not happy.

"Well, what's the matter, darling?"

"I've just seen a news item in the paper," she said. "About the arrest in the park. There's a mention of the rock, and we weren't even close."

He drew his hand down over his face. He too had seen the item, had hoped she had not.

She continued, "It's in the northern corner!"

"I'm sorry," he said.

"Sorry, nothing," she said. "We need to go back."

"Your bottom has yet to recover from the previous excursion."

"Details," she said. "I'll plan better next time."

He looked towards the ceiling, and could only think, _Why me?_

 _The end._

* * *

 **Notes:**

Re: Ted Hughes, from a recent biography, regarding his 'Gypsy Girl':

 _He liked making love to her out of doors, once on Dartmoor uncomfortably on a rock where, according to legend, consummation led to eternal union…_

However, could find no actual information on this legend or this rock. Beginning to think that Ted Hughes made it up…


End file.
